In the deep subterranean chamber

Dark and murky, slime and stench

Engulfs the atmosphere

Bats line up in the heights

Sleeping to their delight

For nothing could happen here

The cavern of centuries is their home

They do not want to roam

The bats inhabit this very space

Often leave with winged grace

To fly off into the night fresh air

To gobble the moths here and there

On fettered wing they fly

Up into the night sky


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